Holiday's

We all know Valentines Day was created by Hallmark in the olden days when people sent cards to close acquaintances and family members, spreading the love of Saint Valentine. But technology has led to a fairly new phenomena that seems to have spread throughout every echelon of holiday spirit. It is the always present, but seldom appreciated, mass e-card distribution. Mingling between the Viagra and Instant winner emails, like a naive child that you can't help but notice, can be seen these generic Valentine e-cards.

Target sent me the sweetest notifications on their cutest night gowns "Show him a Happy Valentine's Day, Jennifer." It's as if they know that deep down I'm a woman.

Where is the shame? People on every social networking site exclaim to their contact list "Merry Christmas!" No longer is any holiday safe. And on this most holiest of card giving days, the Valentine must lower itself to the level of Fathers Day: I, John Smith, wish everyone with an Internet connection an obligatory Happy Valentines Day. The proverbial wind blows, and people continue their unattached lifestyles.

Tuesdays Feb 9th

There is a song, where one must re-enact the sounds of hens. This song is being performed in my chamber choir class, and we went over this part multiple times today. I got into the spirit of things and got it down, and was praised by the director. So now I know, I'm the best person in the group at sounding horrible. I should voice my anger at such an insult, but I'm just too chicken.

Flirting with Danger.

I recently read a comment posted on a professor rating site about how a professor was flirting with girls in the class. I thought that these actions were slightly appalling, but that wasn't what the poster was after. This girl was mad that this professor was flirting only with white girls. It was a hate crime. Bypassing the silly infractions of morality to get to the meat of the matter: the professor wasn't attracted to black girls. Clearly stating the benefits of having a chocolate flirt, she couldn't stop her statement at how African American women were equally if not more appealing than white girls. Finally ending her statement with an empowering "Black Power!" letting everyone know that black girls should also have the right to be ogled during class.

Afraid?

I have sang in front of a couple thousand people before, and not felt the slightest bit of tension. But during my piano class today, when I had to play in front of 16 people, I almost couldn't keep my heart in my chest. I cannot for the life of me figure out why it is exceedingly difficult to perform in front of small groups of people. Especially people I know. So to remedy this situation, I have decided that every time I have to perform in front of small groups of people, I simply have to imagine them all in their underwear with video camera's. Broadcasting my performance all over the world for one night only. It isn't that much of a stretch, everyone has cell-phone video recorders. And picturing them in their underwear isn't too hard with the "pants on the ground" style so prominent in society today.

Everyone has a twin, stop it.

After the simple lab yesterday, Organic chemistry was a wake up call today. Completely crazy. We started a lab today, and will finish it up next lab period as we start a new lab. I got into the lab, and then noticed that my lab partner is another short Asian girl. I know that Asian and short are usually synonyms, but I actually thought that they were the same person until Tina introduced herself as Tina, and not Kim. (Kim is my genetics lab partner).

They are both that stereotype, smart and focused with writing that looks more like typing. Graphs and charts and drawings that actually look like they are supposed to (unlike my drawings err... scribbles). I don't know yet, but I think that Tina (or is it Kim?) probably has that one sport that sets her apart in some way. (still fitting the stereotype, something like soccer, a snow sport, or gymnastics).

Sac State is very multi-cultural, Asians in science/history, African-Americans in sociology/psychology, Hispanic people in Kinesthesiology/public speaking, with Whites left over doing Crap/Undecided. Which means that I must be Asian, right? It's starting to seem like stereotypes aren't based in fact at all.

This similarity crisis happened to me before with fraternal twins. Stephanie and Amy, who were in actuality not that similar in appearance. I could never tell them apart. People thought I was joking until one day I was dancing with Stephanie (the Tango? I'm pretty sure). So anyway, she was always close to me when we were dancing. Finally, I finished the dance with her sitting on my knee and Stephanie comes over with an angry look on her face. Suddenly I had Amy on my knee, and Stephanie questioning me why I switched. I couldn't answer that, I didn't even know how Stephanie turned into Amy? I finished dancing with someone else.

So to all those people out there that look too much like someone else, stop it!!! You are doing that just to make me look stupid.

Nothing like it.

There isn't anything like sitting on your laptop, and hearing that crunching sound it makes. This happened to me today when I was in a dazed mood, trying to figure out exactly which science class I had next, and if anything was due.

I finally figured out that I had a pre-lab due, and noticed that I still had an hour left to do a 15 min assignment. But this wasn't just one of those 15 minute assignments where I had to spend 15 minutes doing it. It was one of those 15 minute assignments, where I had to spend half an hour figuring out what the heck the assignment was. All I had to do was draw the common commercial plasmid (?), and there was a hint: read the lab manual. It was in there somewhere, on a tiny paragraph, in a subsection that could only be read with a microscope, but I found it. After drawing it on a piece of paper, using the old knee-desk set-up, I thought that it looked like an odd doughnut, or maybe a conceptual new-age artists representation of "good enough".

After all of this work (the drawings, and the other drawings), I walked into lab and put some liquid from one tube into another tube. DONE! I really am getting some bang for my buck here as CSUS. Next lab, using a high-tech merry-go-round. YAY!

Friday

Being an elderly person has its benefits (though I am not sure what they are), but I was taught an invaluable lesson on the problems associated with old age. This happened during my time with my friend, whose grandparents are some of the strangest old people I know.

The grandmother, living here for most of her life, grew up in England with an accent to prove it. She supposedly has improved her speech over time, though her R's and some other sentences should be revised. (I'm a wee bit troubled at wheh we ah deary).

The grandfather can always be seen with a glass of wine, and a story from when he was in the war. Where late one night, a sugar-beet field was hit by a mortar near their base. He received his only wound in the war by getting hit in the helmet with a sugar-beet, knocked him out.

One conversation with his grandparents included the grandfather asking me my age (simple enough question), where my friend yelled out that I was 15 (clearly I am not). Being known for lying about these things, the grandmother called my friend a "bloody liah." I finally corrected that I am currently 20 years old, where the grandfather replied "So you're of age." Falling back on stupidity in these awkward situations, I replied that I couldn't legally drink for a little bit. This is where the grandmother jumped in again, "nah, the age is 18. 18 for the boys and 21 for the guhls." The grandfather responded, "That wouldn't make any sense, the girls should come before the boys if anything." Then I fell into silence, and the grandfather went into his sugar-beet story again.

I have determined after meeting them, that I will never get older than I am now (maybe 21). I think this can be accomplished through will power.

Got a Minute?

Being the treasurer for a club composing of over 100 students may seem like a difficult task, but it could not be farther from the truth. Use of excel and whatnot could make this job easier, but I have found a way to make it a no-brainer. Make other people do your work.

Now let's see... about 2 years ago I was in the band room ready to sing chamber choir pieces for my class (chamber choir, of course. In a room with horrible acoustics.) I got there a little early that day, as I always did at that time, and the conductor came in a little early too. (our teacher and conductor). He asked me if I had a little time on Friday to go to a meeting so we could get funding. Anyone could go, but he wanted someone he knew he could count on to go. I figured spending a few minutes to go to a short meeting would be no problem, especially if it would get us funding. When I got there, I was in for a surprise. This was a 1-2 hour meeting of different clubs on campus. In order for us to get funding, our club (the choral club) needed two members (another person that had a little time free on Friday that said OK to the deal). Not just two members, we also had to be the president and the treasurer. (Why? IDK.) So I took treasurer, and the other guy took president.

Paperwork was signed, telling them that I was the treasurer, and that if anyone misused the money, or if they acted inappropriately in another country (where we were to go at the end of the year). I, as treasurer, would be held responsible. (WTF?)

One semester passed, and everything went smoothly. I didn't mind being a pseudo treasurer, but also could have done some of the work. (the person keeping track of the money was much better than me though.) And I had to sign some more paperwork, stating that I was still treasurer so no one would have to go to that meeting again. (changing president or treasurer requires one to attend that meeting.)

I continue to be treasurer to this day, signing my name away to the whims of the person actually keeping track of the money. It's good to be on top of things. But I will always remember to say no to my director if he asks me if I have some free time on a Friday.

Monday & Wednesday @ CSUS

The attitudes of all my professors on Monday and Wednesday should make my life into some sort of sitcom.

My first professor is the one that really likes to show off how much they know to the class, and is very curt with people when they don't know how to do something. She "knows" that she is a better piano player (it is a piano class), and thinks quite lowly of everyone else that isn't as musically talented as her. (even though she isn't a concert pianist, and is forced to teach in order make money... but I don't judge)

The next instructor is the exact opposite, in a class seemingly oxymoronic to his disposition. This is Neurophysiology, in itself it is a hard word to spell, and even harder to learn about. This guy seems more suited to something like (camp counselor). He is very upbeat, and doesn't really know how to spell. Spelling is not important to learn concepts, but when he is teaching about Aristotle and he spells it as "Aristolte, Aristlote, Artistolte, etc..." it can get quite humerous. He even asked the class how to spell nourish, where everyone responded with a unanimous silence. He has messy hair, and speaks like the guy at the beach that calls you Bro all the time. (He knows his stuff though, so I think this lecture will be fun. Depends on what grade I get on the first test.)

I then stick around in that classroom for Biochem with the classic, old, and lazy professor you see in the background of every college movie I have ever seen. He walks in, welcomes us to class, and then starts writing on the board lists of big molecules. He says everything in a matter of fact tone, that leaves me no incentive to take any notes during the class. (It is just soo obvious, until I think about it later. WTF?)

My classes then move on to the instructor that tries to be too creative. It's a genetics lab, and we are all set up in CLANS (sets of four). The prelab is referred to as our FREE VISA (our pass into the next class). Not only does she force creative thinking upon us, she asks it of us. Not only do we have to learn the concepts, but we have to take them and think of all the irrelevant crap that goes with it. Today we needed to figure out where the safety equipment was, so she had to draw a layout of the room, and label it fancily. A ten second instruction of telling me where the fire extinguisher is, turned into 10 minutes of drawing the desk, and then drawing the little circle for the fire extinguisher, with its tiny handle and safety info (Maybe we didn't go that far). The class also has the joy of having no chemical shower. So in the event that I start to burn alive because the admittedly "clumsy" girl in the group spills some Concentrated Sulfuric acid on me, I have the privilege of screaming down the hall, trying to find the stupid shower while stripping to my birthday suit. (And the first aid kit is somewhere around there too. They sure love safety.)

I can finally end my day with an instructor whose previous job was probably being a stand in for Ben Stein (He should start handing out free Caffeine injections at the start of class). I can sit there, watching his mouth move, and imagine him saying "Dry eyes? Try clear eyes." A hardass through and through (with some compunction.) He has no choice, his hardships in the past have hardened him into the angry man that stands before me. He recounts the hardships of being a professor, where students don't listen to him at all. (long story short: He's a pussy.) He begs us all to try hard, and flips into sarcastic comments on all our faults. (He did praise an answer of mine, to one of his overarching question of "what is life?" So he can't be all that bad, he agrees with me.)

To be a professor, it doesn't matter who you are. All that matters is that you are nutty enough to work here, because nobody wanted to hire your crazy ass anywhere else.

Second day at Sac State

Today, after finding an amazing parking space. I heard a voice calling from the distance. Somehow morphing the sounds to my name, I responded accordingly with "hey, haven't seen you in a while." Many would be faced with an awkward silence, but what followed was complete ignorance of my existence. As the person talked into the empty air, eyes fixed on some imaginary person. I could not help but wonder whether I had come into contact with someone using a bluetooth device, or a member of one of America's fine institutions.

I stood unable to decide what I should do. There were a variety of ways to handle this situation. The person looked familiar, and possibly could be waiting to finish their conversation with whoever, so I could continue to approach them in a louder manner. (If they were hard of hearing). I could also join in on their charade, and talk vainly into the misty rain. If all else failed, I could make a new acquaintance if I continued on my course toward this inevitable conversation.

Scarcely prepared for what was to follow, my body automatically figured out the solution to my problem. Out of its own volition, it ran away, periodically taking out a cell phone to check the time for no apparent reason. (bypassing my wristwatch; archaic... I know) Transporting myself to my next class 20 minutes early.

From that moment on, I can freely talk to myself between classes. Waving into the distance, yelling "Hey!" Causing much confusion to passersby, as the mentally disturbed blend freely into the crowd of technologically savvy students.